


With a Bang

by Laylah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alchemy, Antagonism, M/M, Rough Sex, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-16
Updated: 2006-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This doesn’t change anything,” Kimberly says, as defiantly as possible under the circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Bang

“This doesn’t change anything,” Kimberly says, as defiantly as possible under the circumstances. He makes a pretty picture, kneeling on the floor between Greed’s spread thighs, come splattered white and glistening across his face.

“Of course not,” Greed agrees with a smile. “You were mine as soon as I dragged you out of the Fifth Laboratory. This is just....” He wipes a smear from Kimberly’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Icing.”

“Don’t. Fuck with me,” Kimberly snarls, his feral yellow eyes narrow and fierce. He rises, reaching forward, and Greed stands with him, leaning in to lick his come from his alchemist’s face. “I’m serious,” Kimberly says, pressing his palms to the bottom of Greed’s ribcage, a clear threat. “I’m not your fucking pet, like those freaks you broke out of their cages.”

“I know,” Greed says. “And I like you volatile.” He places his hands over Kimberly’s. “Do it,” he murmurs in Kimberly’s ear.

Kimberly pulls back, staring at him, looking half furious and half shocked. “You think I won’t?” he asks, eyes flashing.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Greed says, holding Kimberly’s hands in place. “Go on. Do it.”

Kimberly shrugs, looking at him like he’s the crazy one. “I did try to warn you.”

Something twists in Greed’s stomach, shifting out of true—almost like when he changes form, the same disorienting sense of plasticity — and then it starts to hurt, heat flaring to burning pain and pressure, and then rupturing shattering white light surging out from his core  
.  
.  
.  
and the world comes swirling and shuddering back into focus, spinning to a halt with Greed slumped against Kimberly’s body. He can feel Kimberly’s cock hard against him, and _that_ is an interesting development, because he’d lay good odds on it being a direct result of his little demonstration. Blowing him up apparently does more for Kimberly than just blowing him.

“You’re not human, are you?” Kimberly asks, more calmly than Greed would have expected.

“No.” He puts his hands on Kimberly’s hips and pushes, walking him backward into the wall and pressing their bodies together hungrily. He grins at Kimberly, thrusting against him. “Was it good for you?”

Kimberly’s body answers for him, pushing back before he can even open his mouth to say, “I want to do that again.”

“What a coincidence,” Greed says. He slides his hands inside the waistband of Kimberly’s prison-issue trousers. “I want to do you again.”

Kimberly tenses. “I don’t—”

“I know,” Greed soothes. “You’re not a toy.” He purrs the words into the hollow of Kimberly’s throat, kneading his ass with both hands. “You’re a powerful ally and a valuable member of my team.” A quick, playful bite under his jaw. “And if your ass is as good as your mouth, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

“I should take the top of your head right off,” Kimberly smirks, grinding his cock against Greed’s.

Greed shrugs. “Let me fuck you,” he counter-offers with a smile. “That’s a fair trade, right?”

Kimberly’s eyes glitter, lit with a hunger almost as consuming as Greed’s own. “Fair enough.” His fingertips trace the curves of Greed’s ribs as if he’s having trouble believing what his senses are telling him.

That’s not the only fascinating thing Greed can do, either, and he figures he might as well break his alchemist in all the way, while he’s at it. He flexes his hands, shifting them, feeling his fingertips lengthen and sharpen. The worn cotton of Kimberly’s trousers tears as easily as cobwebs in his claws—and Kimberly panics, both hands flat against his stomach again in an instant.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Greed says, wrapping careful fingers around one of Kimberly’s thin wrists. The pulse beating there is already fast, but it speeds up to frantic when Greed shifts most of his torso as well, shielding himself from his alchemist’s panic. “I just want to get you out of these ratty old things.” He plucks at the hem of the shirt with his free hand, and it rips where his claws snag it.

“I hope you’ll be replacing them,” Kimberly says, his tone admirably composed, his smile only a little forced.

“Absolutely.” _You’re mine, after all._ Greed lets go of his wrist and begins to tear the shirt into delicate ribbons, watching Kimberly’s nostrils flare, something other than panic lighting in his eyes. “I don’t really think this is a good color for you, anyway.”

And to be honest, the Crimson Alchemist needs a good deal more than a change of clothes—like a bath, a shave, about a week’s worth of sleep, and all the food he can stand. But that can wait. Right now, he’s watching Greed’s hands in fascination, reaching to touch one of them cautiously. His fingers slide on the smooth, hard surface.

“That’s a neat trick,” he says.

“Thank you,” Greed replies. It’s rare for someone to just touch his shifted skin, instead of striking it, and he spends a moment noticing how strange the sensation is, muted and slippery. “Let me see your hands.”

Kimberly turns them palm-up, displaying the circles tattooed in the center of each, the moon in his left hand, the sun in his right. Tools. Weapons. Almost as hard to take away as Greed’s shield, and so subtle.

Greed holds them steady—the bones so close to the surface, the skin so paper-fine—and spits once into each palm. “Change that.”

“Into what?” Kimberly asks with a smirk.

Greed smiles. He sees a lot of himself in his alchemist, and he likes the view. “Something slippery.” He traces slow circles on the insides of Kimberly’s wrists with his thumbs. “Something that’ll make it feel good when I get my cock up your ass.”

Challenge flares in those jackal eyes for a second, but Kimberly can’t completely suppress a shiver, either. He presses his palms together, and blue light flickers briefly between them. When he parts his hands again, they glisten slick and wet in the dim light. He reaches down, wrapping one hand around Greed’s cock while the other slides down behind him.

A hundred and thirty years is far too long to go without this, Greed thinks, thrusting into Kimberly’s fist. He has a lot of time to make up for.

Kimberly’s eyes are half-lidded, glazing over, and his mouth falls open as he strokes the lube into himself. The invitation in that expression is too much to resist, so Greed slips two fingers past Kimberly’s thin lips and caresses his soft pink tongue, mindful of his claws. Kimberly’s breathing quickens.

“Next time,” Greed says, “I want to do this in bed, so I can really watch you.” Kimberly’s teeth scrape his knuckles, which could be either consent or complaint. He works his fingers in and out of Kimberly’s mouth, watching the motion of his alchemist’s shoulders, the same slow thrusting. “Ready for me?” he asks as he withdraws his fingers.

Kimberly nods, hair falling in his face. “I want to set you off,” he rasps.

Greed smiles. So much hunger, so much single-mindedness. So much drive and power in such a fragile, ill-treated body. He reaches down, cups his hands under the swell of Kimberly’s ass. “Lift your legs.”

Kimberly braces himself on Greed’s shoulders and lets himself be picked up, wrapping his legs around Greed’s waist. He weighs barely anything, all skin and bones, and it’s fucking _easy_ to lower him smoothly down on Greed’s cock.

The noise Kimberly makes is feral and angry, and Greed feels something prickling in his shoulders, Kimberly’s alchemy trying to disassemble his shield and turn it into something explosive. “Not yet,” he says, pushing Kimberly up against the wall with his body so that his hands are free to capture Kimberly’s wrists and pin them above his head. “I get mine first.”

Kimberly glares at him. “Fuck you.”

“Hmm. Maybe if you’re really good,” Greed says, savoring the spark of fury and hunger in Kimberly’s eyes. Yes, volatile was the right word for this one, starved like a flame, devouring and focused—and _hot_ , yes, so hot and tight around Greed’s cock. Greed pushes, trying out the feel of it. It’s the first time in over a century that he’s gotten to fuck somebody, and it’s even better than he remembered.

“Harder, you bastard,” Kimberly snarls, struggling in his grip. “ _Do_ it, if you’re going to.”

He should probably refuse just to make a point, Greed thinks, but Kimberly is asking him to do what he really wants to do anyway. He snaps his hips forward, ramming in deep, and Kimberly writhes against him, legs tightening around Greed’s waist.

“That’s right,” Kimberly says fiercely. “Like you—fuck, yes—like you mean it.”

“Like this?” Greed asks, pressing Kimberly’s body to the wall, thrusting hard against him, burying his cock in that slick, tight heat. “You need it to hurt a little, don’t you?” He can smell blood, faintly—the bricks in the wall must be doing a number on Kimberly’s back, and he’ll have to be sure to take care of that when they’re done.

“Fuck you,” Kimberly says again, pulling against Greed’s hold on his arms, struggling to get his hands on Greed’s skin.

Greed stops moving entirely, just holding him still. Kimberly smells of sweat and sex and blood, and if he could kill with a look instead of a touch Greed would be reassembling himself from all corners of the room. But he’s still rock-hard, cock straining against Greed’s stomach. “I can wait,” Greed says. He knows all too well what need looks like, and he’s not about to let Kimberly deny it.

There’s a long moment of silence, broken only by Kimberly’s harsh breathing. He squirms, pushes, tries to coax Greed into moving again. Greed waits, watching hunger war with pride in Kimberly’s face.

“Yes,” Kimberly says at last, squeezing his eyes shut and hissing the word as if it hurts him. “I...want it to hurt.”

“Good.” Greed thrusts back in, feeling Kimberly’s resistance melt away as he starts up a punishing rhythm. “So do I.”

Kimberly’s eyes snap back open, flat and vicious, promising all the pain Greed could ever ask for. “Then let go,” he purrs.

Greed smiles. “Soon. Give me a little while to savor this, first.” It isn’t a question, but he’s not surprised to see Kimberly nod anyway, starting to move against him again. It’s different this time when Kimberly flexes, writhes, pulls against his grip — the rules have changed now that they both know Kimberly doesn’t really want him to stop. He leans in and bites at Kimberly’s throat, just under his jaw, sharp teeth scraping over soft skin.

Kimberly growls, low in his throat, and leans his head back to make it easier. “Give it to me,” he whispers, “make it good, you prick, you bastard, I’m going to make you hurt so much, blow your fucking head right off—”

“I know,” Greed murmurs in his ear, “and it’s going to be so good, just like _this_ —” his whole body behind the thrust, and “I can smell your blood, Crimson Alchemist, rubbing you raw, up against the wall, and you want it anyway....” He keeps going, snarling encouragement into Kimberly’s ear, obscenities and endearments and hunger.

Kimberly stops even trying to stifle his moans, tendons flexing in his wrists as he clenches his fists and opens them again, and “Now, now, fuck, Greed, now, _please_ —”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it, pushes Greed past the point of no return, and if his explosion is inevitable then it’s only fair—he lets go of Kimberly’s hands, and Kimberly drops them immediately to his face and neck—and yes, he’s there, white-gold heat flaring up from the base of his cock just as the pain hits him like a thunderbolt to the brain—and he’s shaking with it and everything _twists_ again and  
unravels  
into  
light—  
And he’s breathing hard, when he can breathe again, giddy and almost sated, sliding against Kimberly’s body on his blood and the alchemist’s come. He pulls out slowly, helping Kimberly get his feet back under him, then leans in and kisses his mouth.

Kimberly stiffens, as if he wants to resist—as if this, finally, is too intimate—but Greed doesn’t give him a chance, threading fingers into his long hair to hold him still and plundering his mouth. Mine, the kiss says. Mine.

When Greed pulls away, Kimberly sways on his feet and clutches reflexively at Greed’s shoulder.

“You all right?” Greed asks, slipping an arm back around his waist.

“Fine,” Kimberly insists. “Hungry.”

Of course. Prison probably drained far more of his strength than he realized at first. Greed hooks his other arm under Kimberly’s knees and picks him up, ignoring the way he bristles in outrage. “Come on. You’re going in the bath, while I send Dorochet out for food and clean clothes.”

“You wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t ruined mine,” Kimberly mutters, but he twines his arms around Greed’s neck all the same.

Greed smiles. Yes, his alchemist is volatile. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Close Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/223727) by [Laylah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah)




End file.
